


Mother Knows Best

by futuristicjazzhands



Series: The Many Caregivers of Malcolm Bright [3]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Mother-Son Relationship, Non-Sexual Age Play, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22835272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futuristicjazzhands/pseuds/futuristicjazzhands
Summary: Malcolm gets sick and regresses. After a surprise visit, he ends up in his mother's care.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Jessica Whitly
Series: The Many Caregivers of Malcolm Bright [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633090
Comments: 13
Kudos: 73





	Mother Knows Best

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think this really turned out the way I wanted but I was getting impatient and I want to move on to my next idea for this series, so I thought I'd go ahead and post this. 
> 
> Also, beware there is a good deal of vomiting in the first half of the story. It's not grotesquely graphic, but it might still gross some people out.

When Malcolm woke up in the middle of the night, it wasn’t because of a night terror or a wet bed. His stomach ached and he could feel saliva pool in his mouth in preparation. He fumbled with the cuffs, desperate to get free and to the bathroom before he threw up, but it was much harder than usual. Malcolm felt sluggish and heavy, shaking too heavily to do anything effective with his hands, chains included. 

He got one wrist free, but it was too late. He lurched forward and retched. Even when his stomach was completely emptied onto his sheets and legs, he continued to heave and choke, only able to bring up foul tasting spittle. His face felt like it was burning up, so much that the tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes were cool against his skin. 

After his stomach finally stopped spasming, Malcolm fell back onto the mattress and tried to catch his breath. He was soaked in sweat and had puke on himself, but was far too exhausted and sore to even think about getting up and cleaning everything. He also found himself starting to feel little, making the task seem that much more impossible. Malcolm didn’t regress every time he got sick, but having just thrown up on himself and being so tired and achy he could barely move made him feel helpless. Helpless and all alone with no one to help him clean up. 

With that thought, Malcolm felt his eyes burn with tears again and tried to hold them back so that maybe he could be big again. But his breath hitched in his throat and Malcolm couldn't stop himself from bursting into tears that just worsened his headache. He was miserable and had no idea what to do about it, so he just cried and cried until he eventually fell asleep again. 

* * *

“My God! What  _ is _ that smell!?” Jessica’s voice startled Malcolm out of his fitful sleep. He blinked, trying to wake up enough to think straight, but everything hurt too much for him to focus. He heard the familiar sound of heels clicking against hardwood as Jessica walked up to the bed and turned his head to look blearily at her. She took one look at him, pale but flushed at the same time and lying under vomit covered sheets, and winced, “Oh, Malcolm…”

Malcolm felt a horrible swell of contradictory emotions: guilty that he was being a burden on Jessica but relieved that she was there and would take care of him like she always had; ashamed that he felt like a child when he should be an adult and deal with his problems but grateful for the security that came with regressing. He wasn’t sure what to do, how to feel, what to say. He was sick and exhausted and in pain and he wanted his mother to make everything better. “Mommy…”

“My poor little darling,” She cooed, reaching down to stroke his sweat-damp hair, “You look absolutely dreadful. It must be that nasty flu going around. With you always in that filthy precinct and dealing with who knows what kinds of people, it’s no wonder you’ve caught it. But no matter, you’ll be coming home with me until you recover. I’ll just cancel the rest of my appointments today and have Louisa make some that wonderful soup.” 

Had he been in his adult mindset, Malcolm would have fought that tooth and nail and demanded to be left to his devices, claiming he could take care of himself just fine. He would then suffer through the illness alone. But Malcolm didn’t feel very adult at all and he kind of liked the idea of sleeping in his childhood bedroom, his mom just a shout away. He nodded and tried to sit up, but whimpered when he remembered the mess on his bed. He looked to his mother for help, “Icky…”

“I know, but Mommy will take care of it, sweetheart,” Jessica soothed, bundling up the comforter so the mess couldn’t spill out. Once she put it out of the way in the bathroom, she said, “Don’t worry, I’ll have someone come over to clean everything up and disinfect your apartment while you stay with me. Now, I’m going to pack some of your things. Anything in particular you want to take?”

“Theo…” Malcolm rasped, then winced when it hurt his throat. It still felt raw from puking, but also scratchy and swollen from the flu. Good thing he rarely had much to say when he was little. 

Jessica looked a little bit offended that he had assumed she wouldn’t know to bring his beloved teddy bear, “Of course. I’d never forget Theodore.” She found a bag and grabbed the barest essentials (there wasn’t much she didn’t have or couldn’t get that he’d need) including a few things from the box she knew he kept deep in his closet.

Once it was packed, she slung it over her shoulder and held out a hand to Malcolm, “Let’s get you up, dear.” Malcolm groaned in pain as Jessica pulled him up and out of his bed. Being upright so suddenly made him dizzy, making it hard to get his feet properly into the slippers Jessica set in front of him. He swayed dangerously as he put one foot in, and then the other, nearly falling over. Such a simple task took so much energy, time, and pain. 

Once he was dressed suitably enough to make it twenty feet from the building to the car, Jessica tugged his left arm around her neck and braced his weight against her, “Steady now. It’s not so far to the car and then you can take a nap on the ride home.”

It may not have been very far, but it certainly felt so. Malcolm felt out of breath by the time they were halfway to the ground floor. He wanted to give up and just go back to sleep on the stairs, but Jessica held him and urged him to continue. 

When they finally got outside, Malcolm stumbled and clutched at his stomach, “Stop, I…” He doubled over and gagged, only managing to expel some bitter stomach acid onto the sidewalk. 

Jessica had one hand on his chest, keeping him from falling all the way forward and had the other rubbing circles on Malcolm’s back. She could feel the heat through his shirt and his spine through his skin. He trembled under her touch, and she wasn’t sure if it was his psychosomatic tremor, illness, or a combination of the two, but it worried her regardless.

Malcolm whimpered before heaving again, hard enough that he started coughing and couldn't stop. When Jessica noticed tears dripping down to the ground, she leaned down to kiss his head and whisper, "It's alright. It'll pass soon, just let it all out." 

Just as Jessica said, the coughing passed, though left in its wake a worsened sore throat and a painful wheeze in his lungs. After a few shallow, labored breaths, he was able to stand up again with Jessica's help. She kept rubbing his back as they got into the car, "Almost there, darling, just a few more steps." 

Adolpho opened the door for them, and having seen Malcolm's display, handed Jessica one of the plastic bags he kept in the car, just in case. She smiled at him, "Thank you, Adolpho. Once you drop us off at home, would you mind running to the pharmacy?" 

“Of course, ma’am.” Once the two were in the backseat, he closed the door and rounded the car to the driver’s side. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw that Malcolm had already fallen asleep in the backseat. He made sure to drive extra carefully to avoid potholes and sharp turns.

* * *

“Come on, Malcolm, you need to eat something,” Jessica pled, pushing the bowl of soup closer to Malcolm. He laid in bed, trying his best to ignore the tray of food Jessica had brought for him. He’d been in a cranky mood ever since they had arrived back at the Whitly home, fussing over his bath, his pajamas, and now over the soup. She wasn’t surprised – Malcolm always got temperamental when sick and little – but it was still frustrating. She was nothing if not unrelenting, though, “Just a few bites.”

“No…” Malcolm whined, hiding his face behind Theodore so Jessica couldn’t feed him anything when he opened his mouth. He squirmed, “Tummy hurts.”

“I know, but you still have to eat something or you’ll feel even worse.” Malcolm just shook his head again. Jessica hated playing this card, but it was too effective not to use, so she sighed and said, “If you don’t eat, you can’t take your medicine and get better. Then you won’t be able to go to work with Gil.”

Even while little, Malcolm feared that, so he finally relented. He reached for the spoon Jessica held, but Jessica kept it from him upon seeing the way his hands shook. Malcolm wasn’t particularly coordinated when little, more so when ill. Seeing as she had just gotten him bathed and in bed, she didn’t want to risk him spilling all over himself and the bed, “Let me. Surely you don’t want to get hot soup in your lap, hmm?” 

Malcolm groaned but didn’t fight Jessica anymore; he was far too tired. So he opened his mouth and let his mother spoon the soup in. It was warm, but the taste made Malcolm flinch, holding back his body's urge to gag as he forced it down.

"Good boy," Jessica praised as she scooped up another bite. Malcolm looked ready to resist again, but Jessica nipped it in the bud, "Two more bites and then we can stop." 

He suffered through the two spoonfuls of soup, sighing in relief when he finished the last one. The relief lasted only until he saw Jessica dig through the bag Adolpho had brought back from the pharmacy. He knew he had to take the medicine, but he also knew it tasted disgusting. He pouted, "No…" 

"Yes." Jessica held up the medicine filled cap as well as a sippy cup of pedialyte to wash it down with. She had thirty years to perfect her Mom Glare, so Malcolm didn't stand a chance. He begrudgingly took it, grimacing as he forced himself to swallow. The pedialyte helped flush the bitter taste from his mouth, but it didn't help the nausea at all. He discarded the half full cup and sucked on his thumb instead. 

“No, no,  _ no _ , Malcolm,” Jessica scolded, rushing to replace Malcolm’s thumb with a pacifier, “This is exactly why you got sick. Think of all the germs on your hands, darling. Let’s keep those fingers out of your mouth.”

With everything Jessica had done for him, the bath and soup and medicine, Malcolm could feel a strong sleepiness coming over him. He wiggled down further into his covers, squeezing his teddy close, and let out a tired sigh around the silicone bulb in his mouth. He still felt sick and achy but he also felt warm, secure, and loved. Even more so when Jessica leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead and said, “Get some rest, darling. I’ll be up to check on you in a little while.” 

Malcolm’s eyes slipped closed and for once in a long time, he didn’t have a night terror. 

**Author's Note:**

> I found writing Jessica kind of challenging. I think she's a good mother who would do anything for her children, including helping Malcolm when he regresses and needs her again. I just hope that she doesn't seem out of character in this.


End file.
